


The Present Darkness

by GE72



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Gen, Having Faith, Murder Mystery, Police Procedural, Religious Conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 20:57:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15737211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GE72/pseuds/GE72
Summary: (Season 2) Jason Gideon and the BAU agents investigate murders past and present, when a serial killer resurfaces in Yakima, Washington. A young woman says it was actually a demonic spirit that made her boyfriend into a murderer in the past, and that demon has apparently come back. But is the killer really a demonic spirit - or someone that doesn't need help from evil.





	1. Chapter 1

**Yakima, Washington. April 2000**

Outside the Yakima County Courthouse, the media, print and television, awaited the arrival of a serial killer for his arraignment. 

Added to the throng were curiosity seekers, people who had never seen a murderer of such magnitude in their small city in the middle of Washington state. Maybe in Seattle this would happen, with the ongoing hunt for the Green River killer. But here in Yakima, it was kind of unheard of.

The police van pulled up to the sidewalk in front of the courthouse, as the reporters moved forward, news cameras turning on and focusing on the arrival.

Two police officers pulled out the man, bound by handcuffs and anklets chained together but still able to move. He stood about six feet tall, with dark hair and clean looking. His face, though smooth, wasn’t exactly baby faced but it wasn’t weather worn either. No one realized that he was only eighteen years old.

The officers escorted him past the media horde and inside the courthouse.

Once inside, the officers and the alleged serial killer waited to be called into the arraignment. An hour passed before they signaled to enter the courtroom.

The case was the state of Washington vs. Thomas Bridgeman. The prosecutor, Scott Spurman, read off the charges: Murder in the first degree, four counts, in the deaths of Leonard and Carrie Hallstrom, and Ken and Marcia Bridgeman. Given the violent nature of the crimes, the prosecutor asked for Bridgeman to be remanded to custody.

The defense counsel, Silas Manning, did not oppose remand but asked for his client to be psychiatrically examined to determine his competency before trial. The judge ordered the psychiatric exam.

All in all, it seemed fairly routine.

Soon the police escorted Bridgeman outside to the waiting police vehicle to take him back to the jail at the Yakima County Department of Corrections. The reporters watched as the police led Bridgeman down the walkway to the police wagon.

Suddenly, someone yelled “TOMMY!”

A young woman came running up near the crowd crying out his name. She looked about the same age as Tommy Bridgeman, standing about five feet, six inches tall, with sandy blonde hair. Police officers in the crowd stopped her as some of the news cameras turned to face her.

“HE DIDN’T KILL THEM!” she screamed out. “HE DIDN’T KILL THEM!”

“Miss, please,” one of the officers said to her. “You’re only making a scene. You’re making it worse.”

The young woman struggled in the grasp of the officers as she watched Tommy Bridgeman being escorted to the wagon. Finally, she broke free of the officers, pushed her way through the media horde, and ran up to Bridgeman.

“YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO HIM!” she yelled, as the woman started pounding on Bridgeman with both her fists with hysteric impunity. “GET OUT OF HIM! GET OUT OF HIM! LEAVE HIM ALONE! YOU CAN’T HAVE HIM!”

Police officers grabbed the woman, as the news cameras captured the footage for the world to see later on the five, six, and eleven o’clock newscasts. She was still crying out as they pulled her away.

“TOMMY! I KNOW YOU’RE STILL THERE!” she cried out as she was pulled away. “FIGHT HIM! I KNOW WHAT IT MADE YOU DO!” Her screaming and yelling soon devolved into tears as she began to cry.

Tommy Bridgeman was placed in the van, with officers on either side of him, and soon the wagon was headed back to the county jail.

One of the officers asked Bridgeman, “So who was she? Girlfriend?”

Bridgeman didn’t answer. He looked blankly ahead.

“Okay, ex-girlfriend?”

Still no response.

“Ex-girlfriend,” the officer concluded.

Bridgeman stared blankly into space ahead of him. He didn’t say a word. He couldn’t.

_He wouldn’t let him._

*************************

**March 2007**

Detective Mark Cruz stood over the two dead bodies, knowing he had seen it before.

Blood was all over the floor, walls, and furniture of the living room, splattered by the repeated stabbings of the victims. Over a dozen stab wounds in each victim. Definite overkill.

The victims were Leland and Gillian Northram, both in their mid-forties. He worked at an accounting firm in downtown Yakima, his wife was a teacher at Lewis and Clark Middle School.

Another detective, Walter Kingman, came up to Cruz. “From what we can tell, it looks like a break-in gone wrong. Robbers must have panicked when they saw the couple was still home.”

Cruz looked at Kingman, then looked back at the bodies, then back to Kingman.

“Is that what you think?” Cruz asked.

“You’re telling me this is something else?” Kingman responded. 

Again, Cruz looked at the bodies, as the medical examiner catalogued the wounds on the bodies. Crime scene techs were gathering up evidence as best they could throughout the house.

“No, don’t say it,” Kingman warned. Instead, Cruz walked out of the house. Kingman followed him, where the police cruisers and medical examiners’ wagon were outside on the street, lights flashing and blinking brightly in the night air of Yakima.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Kingman said. “That guy is dead. He was tried, convicted, and died in prison. This is not him!”

“Not who?” a gravelly voiced man said as he walked up to Cruz and Kingman.

“Captain Scoggins,” Cruz said to the man. “We’re still going over the scene.”

“It’s a break in gone wrong,” Kingman said. “Two dead, husband and wife. We’re still canvassing the area.”

Jack Scoggins, the Yakima police captain of the homicide division, looked at Cruz. “Is that really what you think?”

Cruz looked around then said, “Tommy Bridgeman.”

Scoggins replied, “He’s dead.”

“I know that,” Cruz said. “All I’m saying is that there are similarities. Multiple stab wounds in the victims, place is a bloody mess, no money taken, no forced entry. And there’s the name in blood.”

“What name in blood?” Scoggins asked.

Cruz led Kingman and Scoggins into the house, into the living room. “That name,” he said, pointing at the wall.

On the wall nearest the bodies, there was a word written in the blood of the victims. “Ramiel.”

“Him again?” Scoggins asked.

Cruz said. “I know it was at the Bridgeman crime scene seven years ago.” A crime scene tech took a couple of photographs of the word on the wall.

“Back outside,” Scoggins said. Cruz and Kingman followed their boss outside the house.

“This is obviously a copycat,” Cruz said. “But how did he know about ‘Ramiel’? We never released that detail. And this is the second type of killing this month.”

Another two victims, a younger couple, John and Amber Kimble, were found in their home in the Nob Hill neighborhood a few days earlier. They were found with multiple stab wounds as well, blood all over the place, nothing of value taken.

“Any suggestions?” Scoggins asked.

“Call in the feds,” Cruz said.

“The FBI!?” Kingman said back. “Are you crazy?”

“No, but this guy obviously is!”

“That’s enough,” Scoggins said to them. “We’re calling the feds. I’ll call the Seattle field office in the morning.”

“No, call this guy,” Cruz said, taking a business card out of his wallet. “He was at the seminar on criminal profiling I attended a few years ago in Seattle. He helped the Seattle police catch that serial killer a couple of years back and find that so-called mad bomber last October.”

Scoggins took the card from Cruz. “I’ll call,” he said. “In the meantime, collect the evidence and find out what you can from the neighbors.”

Cruz and Kingman nodded and went back inside. Scoggins looked at the card of the FBI agent. He had heard of him as well, and supposedly the best-known criminal profiler in the business.

The business card read:

 

**Jason Gideon**  
Special Supervisory Agent  
Behavioral Analysis Unit  
Federal Bureau of Investigation  
Quantico Virginia


	2. Chapter 2

_“For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.”_ – Ephesians 6:12  
_________________________________________________________  
**Quantico, Virginia**  
**FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit**

“I got a call from Yakima, Washington,” Jason Gideon said to Aaron Hotchner. “They got an unsub who’s killed four people over the last week. They’re asking for our help. The police captain, Scoggins, called us before he talked to his chief. They both seem genuinely concerned about this.”

“Tell me about it,” Hotchner said. The two agents were in Hotchner’s office, as Hotchner was the unit chief for the Behavioral Analysis Unit, and Gideon, a long time profiler. “The case may have something to do with another case from seven years ago. Remember the name Tommy Bridgeman?”

Gideon paused at the name. “I do,” he said. “Killed four people in Yakima as well. The same way these four people were killed. Back then, the police had called us, and me and my team were about to go out there when they called back and told us they caught Bridgeman.”

“Red handed?” Hotchner asked.

“And with a ton of evidence against him.”

“So, this guy’s a copycat?” 

“So it seems,” Gideon said. “But there’s a couple of things that have them worried. That’s why they called us.”

“I’ll get the team together.”

A few minutes later, the BAU agents under Hotchner’s command assembled in the conference room. 

“The police in Yakima called us about four murders in the past two weeks,” Hotchner said in his down to business manner. The unit chief was as straight arrow as they came in the bureau, serious and unbending. 

Jennifer Jareau, the unit’s blonde haired media liaison, clicked the remote for the big screen. The screen showed a series of crime scene photos of the victims. 

“The four victims were killed in their homes,” Jareau said. “They were married couples. No sign of forced entry, nothing was taken, so robbery isn’t a motive.”

“Multiple stab wounds in each victims,” noted Emily Prentiss, the most recent addition to the group. “That suggests a lot of rage.” 

“Not a lot,” Gideon said. “Maybe just enough overkill to suggest rage.”

“Any links between the victims?” asked Derek Morgan. An expert in obsessional crimes, Morgan was a former Chicago policeman who worked undercover before joining the Bureau. When doors needed busting down to find a suspect, he was the one who did so.

“The last victims were Leland and Gillian Northram,” Gideon said. “He was an accountant, she was a middle school teacher, taught math. The first victims, killed a few days ago, were John and Amber Kimble. He was a history professor at Yakima Valley College, she was a counselor for a health clinic in Yakima.”

“I’m not seeing anything obsessional here,” said Morgan, “just rage and overkill.”

“This is what Yakima police is worried about,” Hotchner said. Jareau – J.J. to her colleagues – clicked on another photo.

It was of the word “Ramiel” written on the wall in blood.

“Who’s Ramiel?” J.J. asked. 

“Ramiel was one of the angels who fell from heaven with Satan,” Spencer Reid replied. A certified genius with an IQ of 187, Reid had graduated high school at twelve years old, and college at sixteen, garnering multiple degrees in practically everything and he knew almost practically everything. He chose the FBI, believing his smarts would be beneficial in the capture of criminals. It definitely wouldn’t be because his physicality. He asked, “Why would an unsub identify with a fallen angel from heaven?”

“That I don’t know,” Gideon replied. “But it’s significant.” J.J. clicked on another photo. Another crime scene with the same word written in blood on the wall.

“The same word was at a crime scene seven years ago,” J.J. said. “Ken and Marcia Bridgeman, killed in their home, multiple stab wounds. Another couple, Leonard and Carrie Hallstrom, was killed days earlier, but the word wasn’t written anywhere.”

Reid looked the preliminary report. “Bridgeman? The parents of Tommy Bridgeman?”

“It’s a copycat,” Morgan said.

“Yakima police thought so too,” Hotchner said. “Except the word written in blood was never released to the public. According to court transcripts, it never came up during the trial.”

“Bridgeman was convicted of four counts of first degree murder,” Gideon said. “He was sentenced to life in prison. Six weeks into his sentence at Walla Walla, he died.”

“How so?” Prentiss asked.

“Bridgeman was quiet throughout his trial,” Gideon said, “didn’t say much of anything if at all. Then, in prison, he freaked out and attacked an inmate. When the guards tried to break it up, Bridgeman attacked one of the guards, grabbed his gun, and ran.”

“Where? It was prison.” Reid said.

“Not far,” Hotchner said. “He ran into a wall screaming, turned and faced the oncoming guards with the gun. Guards had no choice but to shoot him.”

“Sounds like a psychotic break,” Morgan stated.

“But there was no warning sign that he was having or going to have a psychotic break,” Reid pointed out.

“So Tommy Bridgeman kills four people, including his own parents,” Prentiss said, “then gets killed in prison. And now some copycat starts killing people the same way Bridgeman did?”

“Wait a minute,” Morgan said. “What if it’s an accomplice no one knew about?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out,” Hotchner said. “Wheels up in thirty.”

************************************

The Gulfstream Jet took off just after noon from Quantico. It would be a six hour flight to Yakima for the BAU agents. Given the time change going to the west, it would be after three o’clock when they would land in Washington state.

“This is our third trip to Washington state in the past two years,” Morgan pointed out. “We’re getting familiar with the place.”

Prentiss asked, “What’s the matter, Morgan? Don’t you like rain?” 

“Actually, because of the Cascade Mountains that divides the state,” Reid stated, “it only rains forty percent less in the eastern part of the state than the west. So we should be pretty dry as far as the weather goes.”

“Thank you, Mister Weatherman,” Morgan said.

J.J. was going through the police reports on the murders past and present. 

“Gideon,” she said, “did you notice this part about a witness who told the defense attorney that Bridgeman didn’t commit the crimes?”

“What do you mean?” Reid asked. “I thought the case was solid.”

“It was,” J.J. said. “According to the report, Bridgeman’s girlfriend, seventeen year old Donna Martin, claims her boyfriend was innocent.”

“Really?” Morgan said. “She must have really been in love with him.”

“According to this,” J.J. said, “Donna Martin said Bridgeman was innocent because…” Her face turned serious. “Oh, never mind.”

“What is it, J.J?” Gideon asked.

J.J. looked over the report before she replied. “Donna Martin had gone to Tommy Bridgeman’s house and saw him coming out of the house with the knife in his hand, and all bloody. But she said her boyfriend was innocent because…” she paused, then continued, “he was possessed by a demonic spirit that made him kill those people, including his parents.”

The passengers inside the plane went silent, looking at their media liaison.

“That’s what _she_ said,” J.J. said.

“The devil made him do it?” Reid asked.

“Turn the plane around,” Morgan said, “we’re not needed. Call an exorcist.”

“I wonder what made her think that her boyfriend was possessed?” Reid wondered aloud.

“Let’s find out,” Prentiss said. She opened up her laptop and dialed up Penelope Garcia for a videoconference. Within seconds, the quirky, eccentric, fashion out there, computer tech analyst appeared on screen.

“Hello, my favorite do-gooders,” she greeted from behind pink framed eyeglasses.

“Garcia, we need some info on a Donna Martin of Yakima, Washington,” she said. “She was a witness in the murder case from 2000.”

“Hold on for just a few seconds,” Garcia said happily, as she typed in the name on her computer system. “Okay, Donna Martin was seventeen at the time of the murders in Yakima. She claimed that her boyfriend Tommy Bridgeman was possessed by an evil spirit that made him commit murder. The two actually went to school together at Eisenhower High School. For obvious reasons, she wasn’t used as a defense witness and…oh dear.”

“What is it Garcia?” Hotchner asked.

“For five years after the murders,” Garcia replied, “she was committed to the Western State Hospital in Steilacoom.”

“Seeing things will do that,” Prentiss said.

Garcia added, “She was released two years ago in the custody of her father, James Martin, a church pastor. She is currently living back in Yakima.”

“Thanks, Garcia,” Morgan said, as the computer tech’s cheerful face disappeared from the screen.

“This is a new one,” J.J. said. “Demonic possession in a murder case.”

“Sounds crazy, I know,” Gideon said. 

“It’s obvious that she had some kind of hallucination,” Reid said.

“Maybe,” Gideon said. “What if it wasn’t a hallucination?”

“Are you serious?” Hotchner asked.

“She saw something,” Gideon said. “Just exactly what, is the question.”

*****************************************

At the Yakima Christian Church, pastor James Martin was at his desk inside his office with Silas Manning, the attorney for Tommy Bridgeman.

“Does she know what’s going on?” Manning asked.

“She hasn’t read the newspaper lately or watched the TV news if that’s what you’re asking,” Martin replied. 

“I heard the FBI is coming in later today. They may want to talk with Donna, but I don’t think they want to hear about her seeing demons taking over her boyfriend.”

“I don’t want to see her go back to that hospital.”

“I agree. I don’t know what she really saw, but if they hear that demon story, they just might turn around.”

“Maybe that’s not a bad thing.”

“Still leaves us with a nutjob killing people,” Manning said. 

“So what are you going to do?” Martin asked.

“Do what you suggested,” Manning replied. “Pray. Pray that this is really a nutjob killing people and not some demon that nobody can see.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Yakima, Washington**

The Gulfstream Jet landed at Yakima Municipal Airport just after three o’clock, Pacific time. The agents got off the plane and were greeted by a steady rainfall as they made their way to the terminal.

“You were wrong, Mister Weatherman,” Morgan said to Reid, as he turned up his jacket collar.

“I said it rained less,” Reid countered, as he and Gideon popped open umbrellas. “I never said it didn’t rain on this side of the Cascades.”

A pair of Chevy SUV’s were waiting for them in the parking lot, allotted by the FBI field office in Seattle. The agents drove up to the Yakima Police Headquarters in the rain.

Once inside the building, the agents headed straight to the detectives’ bullpen, where two men were waiting for them.

A silver haired man with a gravelly voice greeted them, standing next to a dark haired straight arrow, Latino. “Hi, I’m Captain Jack Scoggins. This is detective Mark Cruz.” The agents introduced themselves, then headed to the conference room. A board to pin up photos had been set up.

“We have you set up in here,” Scoggins said. “We have the evidence reports from both cases past and present in the files. 

“Thank you, Captain,” Hotchner said.

“I was the original lead detective on the Bridgeman case,” Scoggins said. “Cruz here is handling the current investigation.”

“There’s a possibility that this is a copycat killer,” Morgan said, “but both cases are definitely related.”

“I believe it is a copycat,” Scoggins said. 

“Do you?” Reid asked Cruz.

“There are some similarities,” Cruz replied, “but if this is a copycat, I would like to know how he or she knew details of the case we didn’t release to the media.”

“Point taken,” Gideon said.

Hotchner gave out instructions to the agents. “Morgan, Reid, go to the coroner, find out what you can about the latest victims. Gideon, you and Prentiss head out to the last crime scene. Me and J.J. will go over the evidence and look for other similarities between the cases.”

“I’ll go out with you to the crime scene,” Cruz said to Gideon.

The other agents and Detective Cruz left, leaving Hotchner, J.J., and Captain Scoggins in the conference room.

“You said you were the detective on the original case,” J.J. said to Scoggins. “Do you have any theories why someone would copycat those murders?”

Scoggins shook his head. “I’ve been racking my brain the past couple of days trying to figure that out,” he replied. “You know, stuff like this didn’t happen in Yakima until we arrested Tommy Bridgeman for those murders. Now it’s happening again, and I have no idea why.”

*************************************

Morgan and Reid were at the Yakima County Medical Examiner’s office, a few blocks away from the police station. In the morgue, the bodies of the most recent victims, Leland and Gillian Northram, were on the examination tables.

As Morgan and Reid looked over the corpses, the coroner relayed his findings. “Both victims were stabbed multiple times, fourteen in him, fifteen in her. Most of the wounds were post mortem.”

“Same with the previous two?” asked Reid.

“Almost the same,” the coroner replied. “Multiple stab wounds. Pretty much the same amount, and a number of them post mortem.”

“Are you familiar with the original cases from seven years ago?” Morgan asked.

“I wasn’t the lead medical examiner then, but I was familiar with one of the two cases,” the coroner replied. “I was at the scene of the Bridgeman murders. It was pretty much the same there too.”

Morgan said to Reid, “This looks like a blitz attack. Somehow, our unsub got inside the house without force.”

“They must have known the attacker,” Reid surmised. “They must not have felt threatened by him. He must have waited for the right moment after being invited him before he killed them.”

“Or one of the victims said something that set him off,” Morgan added. He looked at the bodies. “The victims were probably killed in the first couple of wounds. Why keep stabbing them?”

“Most likely rage.”

“Something doesn’t play right.” Morgan then said to the coroner, “Did the bodies looked they had been moved after they were killed?”

“There was some smeared blood on the living room floor around the bodies,” the coroner said. “They had been moved but only a couple of feet.”

“If that’s the case, then some of the wounds could have came after they were dead,” Reid said. “Probably did so for show, or possibly a kind of forensic countermeasure.”

“Efficiency disguised as rage,” Morgan said. “One or two wounds to kill, the rest for show. Same thing with the name Ramiel on the wall. Just who exactly was Ramiel anyway?”

“Like I said, one of the angels who fell from heaven,” Reid replied. “Ramiel was the angel of hope, who resurrected the dead to take them to heaven. He fell because he fell in love, like the others, with human women, and fathered Nephilim. They were half human, half angel.”

Morgan said. “Maybe our unsub considers himself a fallen angel, except he didn’t fall for seven days.”

“Or maybe,” Reid started to say before stopping.

“Maybe what?”

Reid finished, “Maybe he’s not really an angel to begin with. If that’s the case, that would be kind of obvious." He then asked, “You said you were at the Bridgeman murders seven years ago. Did anything stand out then?”

The coroner thought about that before answering. “I don’t think so. Like I said, it was pretty much the same. Multiple stab wounds in each victim.” 

“Thanks doctor,” Morgan said. 

As they left the coroner’s office, Reid asked, “You don’t think it’s a copycat, do you?”

“The thought has crossed my mind,” Morgan replied.

“Same here.”

*********************************

The Northram house was just off Nob Hill Boulevard in the western part of Yakima. It was a split level home, painted tan. Nothing really stood out about it, except the fact that the homeowners were murdered there two days ago.

Gideon and Prentiss entered the house, with Cruz behind them, lifting up the yellow crime scene tape over the doorway. The rain was still falling, with skies darkening over the Yakima Valley.

“I read about how you captured the Seattle Strangler a couple of years ago,” Cruz said to Gideon. “And I read about the bomber this past October. Was he really just some messed up college kid?”

“He was,” Gideon replied. “He tried to kill a woman he thought was his long lost mother.”

“I take it he’s in prison.”

“Lifetime residency in Monroe.”

The agents came upon the body outlines where the victims had been found. There was still blood splattered over the floor and walls.

“From what we saw, there was no forced entry and nothing of value was taken,” Cruz said.

“So, why kill a married couple if you’re not going to steal anything?” Prentiss asked. “Why kill them at all?”

Gideon looked the blood on the wall. The name “Ramiel” was still there.

“Our unsub has something for religion,” he said. “He believes he’s a fallen angel.”

“So what sin did he commit?” Prentiss asked.

“Something mundane to him, something really big in the eyes of others,” Gideon replied. “Sin could be subjective these days.” Gideon asked Cruz, “What was Northram’s job?”

“He was an accountant,” Cruz replied. “Worked in downtown.”

“Didn’t bring his work home?”

“If he did, we didn’t find it.”

Prentiss said, “And his wife was a school teacher.”

Gideon looked back at the front door then down at where the bodies were. 

“So our unsub knocks at the door,” Gideon said, “gets invited in. makes small talk, then when the Northram’s least expect, he kills them. He waited for the right moment.”

“One of them must have been out of the living room when he killed the first one, then the second one came in.”

“Wife went to the kitchen get a coffee, then the unsub kills the husband. Wife comes back to the living room, takes her out. Quick, efficient.”

“Cold blooded,” Prentiss added. “No pun intended. Still the question is why?”

Gideon said, “Better question is, who?”

**********************************

The agents gathered back at the Yakima Police Station. It was close to seven o’clock when Gideon and Prentiss returned with Cruz from the Northram house, and Morgan’s cell phone rang.

“What’s up baby girl?” Morgan said, putting his phone on speaker.

“It’s late here in Quantico, so I’ll make it fast,” Garcia said. “I’ve been trying to find any links between our victims past and present, and I found one.”

“What’s that?” Hotchner asked.

“Yakima Christian Church. All eight victims attended services there for the most part, though only the Bridgeman’s were full time parishioners. In fact, the Northram’s had decided to attend services at another, Valley Fellowship.”

Gideon said, “Leland Northram was an accountant. Can you send us a list of his clients?”

“Done,” Garcia replied. “And I’m checking if there’s any crossover with the parishioners at Yakima First Christian Church….none. There’s still a family member in the area, Alicia Bridgeman. She was in college when her parents were murdered.”

“Thanks Garcia,” J.J. said. “Get some sleep.”

“Will do.”

“So, if our unsub thinks he’s a fallen angel, and he’s going after sinners,” said Morgan, “I don’t think he or she would be targeting tax cheats.”

Gideon said, “Detective, have you or Scoggins been in contact recently with the young woman who said Bridgeman was innocent of the murders?”

“You mean Donna Martin?” Cruz said. 

“I’d like to speak to her.”

“You can go to the Yakima Christian Church tomorrow,” Cruz said. “Her father is the lead pastor there. But I don’t know talking to her would help.”

“How so?” Gideon asked.

“I don’t believe what she saw then, about the demonic spirit,” Cruz replied. “The doctors didn’t either. That’s why she was in Western State Hospital.”

“She saw something,” Gideon said. “Maybe we can find out what she really did see.”


	4. Chapter 4

Before the agents departed for the hotel, Scoggins put in a call to the Yakima Christian Church, and left a message for Jim Martin, the lead pastor, saying that the agents wanted to talk to him and his daughter about the recent murders in Yakima.

The agents stayed at the Holiday Inn in downtown, just off Interstate 82. The following morning, the rain had stopped but it still looked gloomy, as clouds overhead were a dark gray.

At the police station, Hotch assigned Morgan and Prentiss to talk to Alicia Bridgeman, the sister of the person who killed their parents, while Gideon and Reid would be headed out to Yakima Christian Church to speak with Jim Martin and his daughter Donna. J.J. would preparing a press statement about the recent murders and ask for the public’s help if they had seen anything during the nights when the murders occurred.

Gideon and Reid left in one of the SUV’s to head to the church. Fifteen minutes later, Alicia Bridgeman arrived at the police station. She was thirty years old, with dark hair and brown eyes. She was now a secretary in Ellensburg at Central Washington University’s administration office.

Morgan and Prentiss talked to her in another conference room. The agents introduced themselves and told her what they wanted to talk about.

“I know this brings up some bad memories,” Prentiss said to Alicia Bridgeman. “We only want to find out who’s doing this.”

“I understand,” Alicia said. “But after all these years, I still can’t bring myself to believe my brother did this to our parents. He had no reason to kill them.”

“How was your brother feeling before this all happened?” Morgan asked.

“Actually, he wasn’t all doing that well,” Alicia replied. “Physically, he was fine. His grades were decent. My parents told me so. It’s that he wasn’t fitting in well at school. He had friends but he kept mostly to himself.”

“What about Donna Martin?” Prentiss asked.

“What about her? When they first met, it was like he became a totally new person. He was infatuated with her. He became more outgoing, more friendly.”

“I understand he started going to church,” Morgan said. 

“That too. I know Donna was a pastor’s daughter, and she was at a Christian school, I think Riverside Christian, on the other side of the freeway, before she went over to Ike. Somehow, she got him to open up.”

“Sounds romantic,” Prentiss said.

“Until he killed our parents,” Alicia said. “I still don’t know what exactly happened to make him do that.”

“Did he make friends with anyone else?”

“Well, he did get a part time job at this place,” Alicia replied. “Valley Consolidated. They’re a logistics firm here in Yakima. They move major products for the local industries and major farms up and down the Yakima Valley. He was doing some small deliveries for them, nothing major. He probably knew some people down there.”

“We’ll look into that,” Morgan said.

“Growing up, he seemed lost, not being able to fit in,” Alicia said. “But when he met Donna, that all changed. He was smitten with her, and they became good friends.”

“Did they date?” Prentiss asked.

“They went out on a few dates,” Alicia replied. Then she stopped, then said, “After their last date, that’s when Tommy began to act strange.”

“How so?”

“He was coming out of his shell, then he seemed to retreat back into it,” she said. “But at the same time, he acted as if he was trying to hide something. What, I don’t know.”

“Where was their last date?” Prentiss asked.

Alicia thought about it before answering. “There was a Christian concert at the Capitol Theatre. After the show, they stopped at a diner a few blocks away. They were just talking about life, goings on with the church. That’s where things get kind of strange.

“I know what some people were saying about what she saw. The defense attorney didn't put her on the stand. But from what I understand, Donna had excused herself to the ladies room. When she came back, she saw Tommy leaving. She followed him to the parking lot next door to the café. It was dark but she saw Tommy under this light pole talking to someone. She moved to get a better look, and – this is what she said, not me – that’s when she said the person walked into Tommy and became part of him.”

“The so-called demonic possession,” Prentiss said.

“After that, Tommy was back to being quiet, being secretive. I came home on the weekends from Central Washington, and I could see he was different, and not in a good way. I asked him what was going on, and he wouldn’t say much, he kept insisting he was fine. 

“When was this happening?” 

“This was in April,” Alicia said. “I saw my parents on the Easter weekend, then the following weekend, after I saw them, the Yakima police called me and told me what happened.” She began to tear up in her eyes. “The police responded to a call from the neighbors about yelling and screaming inside the house. About an hour later, the police found Tommy wandering around a few blocks away in Fisher Park with the knife in his hand, all bloodied up.”

It was too much for Alicia, as she began to cry. Morgan and Prentiss let her do so before she regained her composure.

“I still don’t know why he did it,” Alicia finally said. “During the trial, I tried to get him to talk but he wouldn’t tell me. I don’t think he even told his lawyer.”

“We’ll do our best to find out why,” Morgan said. 

Alicia said, “I know about the recent murders here in Yakima, and I’m hearing things about this being a copycat.”

“We’re investigating it as one,” Prentiss said.

“I know what Donna said about Tommy. But I’m scared now. What if it really was some kind of demon who made my brother kill our parents?”

“We have agents talking to her today,” Morgan said to Alicia. “We’ll know soon enough.”

**************************************

It began to rain again, as Gideon and Reid pulled up to the Yakima Christian Church. It was on the west side of the city, a modern building with a teal colored shingle roof and white walls. A wooden cross was on the side of the wall facing the parking lot.

The two agents got out and walked towards the church’s main entrance.

Gideon said to Reid, “A logical person like yourself, do you believe in God?”

“Should I?” Reid countered.

“It wouldn’t hurt.”

They entered through the church doors, out of the rain and into the foyer. Out of one of the office doors came a man in his early fifties, his brown hair flecked with touches of gray.

“We’re looking for James Martin,” Gideon said.

“That’s me, I’m James Martin, lead pastor here. You must be the FBI agents. Captain Scoggins said you would be coming over. Welcome.” The agents introduced themselves, as Gideon shook hands with the pastor, while Reid gave his customary wave. “So what can I do for you?”

“We’d just like to talk to you,” Gideon replied. The three went into his office and sat down around Martin’s desk.

“I’m aware of the recent killings here in Yakima,” Martin said. “Is it a copycat?”

“Initial evidence seems to confirm that,” Gideon replied, “but we’re checking out all angles.”

“Any reason to why these murders are happening?”

“No.”

“I might as well ask the question,” Martin said. “Is there a witness who has said the killer is some kind of demonic spirit inhabiting the body of an otherwise innocent person?”

“What makes you say that?” Reid asked.

“Come on, there has to somebody saying so.”

“We haven’t heard yet,” Gideon said. “If there’s a witness to these murders, the police haven’t found them yet or they haven’t come forward.” He then said, “We’re aware of your daughter’s account of what happened.”

“Then you also know what happened to her after she said what she saw,” Martin said. 

“What exactly did she see?”

“You know. She said her boyfriend was possessed by a demon and that’s what made him kill all those people, including his own parents.”

“I understand all those people, the victims, attended your church.”

“So?”

“Do you think whoever committed these murders may have had something against your church in particular?”

“Since everyone thinks my daughter saw a demon, probably,” Martin said. Gideon could sense the pastor’s frustration coming to the surface.

“We’re not talking demonic spirits,” Gideon insisted. “We’re talking unsubs. Unknown subjects. Suspects. People in the real world.”

That seemed to placate Martin. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe its some kind of coincidence.”

“Is you daughter Donna here or at home?” Reid asked. “We’d like to talk to her as well.”

“She’s actually here,” Martin said. “Usually she would be at home with my wife, but my wife is out of town.”

Reid said to Martin, “We know she’s was in a mental hospital for some time after the original case – “

“My daughter’s not crazy!” Martin suddenly snapped, as he stood up from his chair.

“We’re not saying she is,” Gideon quickly said. “We just want to talk to her, that’s all.”

Martin calmed himself down. “Okay,” he said. “Follow me.”


	5. Chapter 5

Martin led Gideon and Reid out of the church office. “Donna is in the nursery,” the pastor said. “She’s helping take care some of the little kids in our day care.”

At that same time, a man in a suit came in through the main doors. “Jim, got a minute?”

“Oh, hi, Silas. Agents, this is Silas Manning, our counsel for the church. Silas, this is agents Gideon and Reid with the FBI.”

“You were Tommy Bridgeman’s attorney,” Reid said, as Manning and Gideon shook hands.

Manning said, “I am – was.” 

“Is there you can tell us about him that you noticed?” Gideon asked. “Something not covered by privilege?”

“Well, since he’s dead, I can tell you a lot,” Manning replied. “Privilege wouldn’t apply, even if his parents were alive.”

“Okay, obvious question is,” Reid asked, “did he do it?”

“Between you, me and the walls, he did. I tried to get him into a hospital, but the prosecutors weren’t having any of it. I consider it a miracle that he got life, not the death penalty.”

“You said you tried to get him into a hospital,” Gideon said. “Was he sane?”

“The head shrinkers said he was sane,” Manning replied. “But I don’t think he was all there. He was mostly quiet, but when he did talk, he said he did it.”

“Did the devil make him do it?” Gideon asked.

“You mean was someone occupying his body at the time he murdered his own parents? No. I know that he was becoming more outgoing before he committed the murders, so something in his demeanor must have changed. What, I don’t know.”

“So you didn’t use Donna Martin as a defense witness?” Reid asked.

“Are you kidding?” Manning replied. “Lose my license and wind up in the crazy house as well? Of course not. Look, I know she was his girlfriend, but she wouldn’t have done Bridgeman any good taking the stand and saying ‘I see dead people.’”

“Let’s just talk to her and get her side of the story,” Gideon said.

They all walked over to the nursery. Inside the room, Donna Martin was sitting down on the floor, reading to a pig tailed five year old girl from the Bible.

“…Daniel was taken up out of the lion’s den, and saw that he wasn’t hurt, because he believed in God,” Donna read to the little girl, smiling as she did. Hearing the story of Daniel in the lion’s den made the little girl smile as well. 

“Donna,” Jim Martin said to his daughter, “these two men would like to speak to you.”

The little girl got up, followed by Donna. “Okay, Patty,” Donna said to the little girl, “I’ll take you to Miss May and she’ll give you a drink of apple juice.”

“I can do that,” Martin said. “Come along Patty.” To the agents, he said, “I’ll be back.” Martin and Manning left the room, leaving Gideon and Reid alone with Donna Martin. They found chairs to sit on in the room.

“Hello Donna. We’re with the FBI. I’m Jason Gideon and this is Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“Hello,” Donna said back softly.

“We’d like to ask you about Tommy Bridgeman,” Reid said.

“Okay.”

“How well did you know him?”

“Pretty good,” Donna replied. “We first met at Ike, that’s Eisenhower High School. I was kind of out of place, since I came over from a Christian school. But he felt out of place too.”

“So you two got along?” Gideon said.

“We did,” she said. “It was like God brought us together. We became very good friends.”

“You two dated?”

“We did.”

The agents paused before asking the next question. Reid asked, “Do you know what happened to him?”

“I do,” Donna replied, nodding her head. “They said he killed his parents and some other people.”

“But do you believe that?” Gideon asked.

“No,” she quickly answered. “It wasn’t his fault.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was that….thing. It got inside him and made him do all those things.”

“What thing?” Gideon asked.

“That…” Donna struggled to say the right word. “That….demon.”

“Demon?” Reid asked.

Donna looked at Reid as her eyes widened. “Yes, a demon.”

“Was it Ramiel?”

Donna suddenly looked confused. “Who’s that?”

“One of the angels who fell to earth,” Reid pointed out. “Was it him who made your boyfriend kill those people?”

Donna said emphatically. “I saw who it was! It was a demon. He entered his body and that’s what made him kill all those people. It made him kill his parents.”

“Are you sure?” Gideon asked.

“I know what I saw!” Donna insisted. “I know you don’t believe me, but I saw the demon enter him.”

“Where did you see the demon?” Reid asked.

“Outside of Mel’s Diner,” Donna replied. “It was after a show at the Capitol Theatre.”

“How did it happen?” Gideon asked. “How did the demon get inside Tommy?”

“He was talking to him,” Donna replied, “and he just walked into him. No warning.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes! I know you think I’m crazy, but I saw what I saw.”

“How did Tommy act after the demon entered him?” Reid asked.

The question seemed to catch Donna off guard but she answered, “He took me home that night. He seemed okay at first, but he began to slowly change. Not physically. He acted normally but I knew something was off. A couple of days later, I tried to call him at his home, but his parents said he wasn’t there. That was the night of the first two people getting killed.”

_Calm, collected, organized,_ Gideon thought. _Tommy Bridgeman, not Donna Martin._

“A couple of nights later, I tried to call him again, but his parents said he was on his way home,” Donna continued. “I went over to his place. He was coming out of his house. He had the knife in his hand and he was all bloody. I screamed and I ran out of there.”

“So you didn’t see him actually commit the murders?” Reid asked.

“No!” Donna cried out. “It was that…monster. The demonic spirit. It changed him and it made him kill those people!”

“I mean, did you actually see the spirit make Tommy commit those murders?”

“No! That demon made him do it!”

“Was the demon still in him after his arrest?”

“It was!” Donna replied excitedly. “It was still in him. I could see it. Laughing at everyone because he had Tommy under his control and Tommy couldn’t do anything about it, because he didn’t know about it himself!”

“Describe the demon for us,” Gideon said.

Donna searched for the words to describe what she saw. “He looked like a man, but not quite,” she replied. “He was dark, like a shadow. Like I said, Tommy was talking to him and then he walked right into him.”

“Anything else?” Reid asked. _Like a tail or horns on his head._

Donna thought about it, then said, “He raised one of his hands, as if he reached out to Tommy before he entered him. His right hand. I only saw he had four fingers. I mean, he had a thumb but only three fingers.”

Gideon and Reid looked at Donna as if she was….

Donna stood up quickly. “I’m not crazy! I know what I saw!”

Gideon and Reid stood up as well. “We’re not saying you are crazy,” Gideon said. “Thank you.”

“Wait, just one more question,” Reid quickly said. “You said you saw a demon. Did you see an angel as well?”

Donna was again taken aback by the question. “No,” she replied. “Why?”

“Because if you saw a demon, then it would make sense that you would have seen an angel as well.” 

“Thank you,” Gideon said again. As he and Reid left the nursery, Reid’s cell phone rang. In the hallway, he stopped to answer it, as Gideon went back out to the main foyer.

“Hi Hotch,” Reid said into his phone. “We just talked to her....We’re on our way back in….Okay…” He looked over to see Donna had left the nursery and walked down the hall in the opposite direction. As she did, she reached into one of her pockets and pulled something out. Reid could see it was a small prescription bottle. He could see her open it and take a small pill out before she ducked into the restroom down the hall.

Reid went out into the foyer, where Gideon was talking to Jim Martin and Silas Manning. 

“Thanks for letting us talk to her,” Gideon said to Martin. 

“Did you get what you were looking for?” Martin asked.

“I think we did. Thanks again.” Gideon and Reid left the church and went back into the rain towards their SUV.

“I got a call from Hotch,” Reid said. “He wanted an update.” 

Gideon didn’t respond. 

“What are you thinking about?” the genius asked his mentor.

Gideon finally said, “I wonder how the demon got inside Bridgeman.”

“Like Donna said, he just walked into him,” Reid said.

“That’s how she saw it. But how did it really happen?”


	6. Chapter 6

J.J. stood in front of the podium, situated on the steps in front of the Yakima police headquarters. Reporters assembled in front, as news cameras focused on her, as Captain Scoggins and Hotchner stood on either side of her.

“The FBI is assisting the Yakima police in the murder investigations of the Northrams and the Kimbles,” she said to the media. “We are in the process of gathering information in both cases and have interviewed witnesses to the crimes.”

A reporter asked, “Are these murders related to the murders seven years ago?”

J.J. answered, “The FBI and the police are investigating the case at all angles. There are some similarities but everything is still speculative at this point.”

“Have you talked to God about the murders?” one reporter called out.

J.J. was expecting someone to bring up an idiotic question or remark about the involvement of demons, since most everyone in the area knew of Donna Martin’s holy, or unholy, belief of what she supposedly saw.

“We are taking statements from citizens in the area, so if anyone has any information in these crimes, we encourage you to call the number below on your screens.” The graphic departments at each of the television stations in town would add the police tip line on their broadcasts.

She concluded, “We will have further updates. Thank you.”

Scoggins and the agents went back inside the police station, as they saw Prentiss and Morgan headed for the exit.

“Where are you going?” Hotchner asked. 

“It’s lunchtime,” Morgan replied. “Gideon asked us to meet him and Reid at Mel’s Diner.”

“I assume he’s buying,” Prentiss added.

“Let’s go,” J.J. said.

*************************************

The agents sat at a large round table inside Mel’s Diner and enjoyed their lunch, all courtesy of Gideon. The diner inside looked like the prototypical 1950’s style establishment, with stainless steel counters and retro décor. On the outside, it wasn’t a diner car like some places back east but more like a Denny’s painted teal blue fitted around silver chrome.

The food of course was typical diner fare, with some exceptions.

“You actually liked that burger?” Prentiss asked Morgan. “It was made of buffalo!”

“It tasted great!” Morgan returned. “And they gave it a great name – a Beefalo!”

“Studies have said that buffalo meat is leaner than ground beef,” Reid said. “Though I personally would rather have the ground beef.”

“You like places like this, don’t you?” Hotchner asked Gideon.

The longtime profiler sipped happily on a milkshake. “Diners represent a slice of Americana,” Gideon replied. “They are of a time long ago, of innocence and happiness, regardless of how old one is. Besides, I wanted to see where Donna said she saw her boyfriend get possessed.”

“Well, it was here,” J.J. said. “It was in the parking lot.”

“Demonic beings eat at diners before they possess someone?” said Prentiss. “That’s a new one.”

“According to Donna,” Gideon said, “she and Tommy Bridgeman were here after the concert at the Capitol Theater. They had a bite to eat, then she went to the ladies’ room, but he went outside. She later followed him outside and that’s when she saw her boyfriend get taken over by the demon.”

“That’s what she said,” Reid said.

“So let’s find out what she really did see.”

After Gideon paid the bill, they all went outside to the parking lot. It had been raining on and off all day, as Yakima in the early spring was feeling more like Seattle at any time.

“Donna said she saw Tommy standing underneath a lamppost in the parking lot,” Morgan said. He went over to the lamppost in question, at the far end of the lot. The others followed close by.

Prentiss continued, “Donna saw Tommy and the so-called demon talking and after a couple of minutes, the demon entered Tommy’s body and took over him.”

Gideon instructed, “Reid, be the spirit and try to walk into Morgan.”

Reid did as he was told. He went over to Morgan, stopped a couple of feet in front of him, then walked right into him.

“Hey man!” Morgan cried out, backing up.

“He said walk into you!” Reid protested.

“So if the demon did that,” said Gideon, “how come Tommy didn’t react the way Morgan did?”

“Because it wasn’t a demon that Donna saw,” Hotchner said.

“Exactly.”

“That’s not all,” Reid said, pointing past Morgan, who looked behind him. There was an alley way behind him between two buildings on the block.

“Our second person didn’t walk into Bridgeman,” J.J. said. “He walked _past_ him. Right down the alley.”

“But from Donna’s perspective,” Prentiss added, “she couldn’t have seen that. Aside from the lamppost, it was dark.”

“So now are we saying that there were two people who committed these murders, past and present?” asked Hotchner.

“Only in the past,” Gideon said. “The present, it’s someone else.”

“So we find Bridgeman’s accomplice,” Morgan said, as him and Reid walked up to Gideon.

“No,” Gideon said. “Bridgeman was the accomplice. She saw our unsub.”

The agents returned to the Yakima police station. On the way back, Reid informed Gideon about seeing Donna Martin at the church taking a pill from a prescription bottle. 

As soon as they entered the building, Gideon said, “It’s time to deliver the profile.”

******************************************

Captain Scoggins gathered Cruz and the rest of the detectives to the bullpen, along with some uniformed officers. Gideon stood in front of them, as the rest of the agents stood off to the side. 

“We believe the unsub in this case is the same person who committed these murders seven years ago,” he began. “He had managed to stay under the radar amid a cloak of anonymity all these years. He is in mid-thirties to forties, someone you might see as respectable. He has a good job, does good works in the area, sociable, someone you might see as someone who would be the last person who could do such a thing.”

As Gideon delivered his thesis he moved around the open space of the bullpen, making sure that everyone would keep their attention on him and hear his profile of the unsub.

“He is also charming, as the victims welcomed him into their homes, believing they had nothing to fear,” Gideon continued. “He got them alone, then killed them in what was initially to be a rage but now seen as quick efficiency disguised as rage and overkill. He also has manipulated someone into not only being his accomplice, but to take the fall for him and his crimes. Nothing is as it seems when it comes to this particular unsub. The nature of the crimes may suggest a previous record, maybe something like assault, but I don’t believe so.

“There are religious overtones to this case. The name of Ramiel, one of the fallen angels from heaven, the victims had steadfast faith and attended the same church over the years. A witness claimed that there was a demonic possession. Our unsub believes himself to be a kind of fallen angel, and is making his victims pay for their sins, as well as his own, whether they are real or imagined. He could’ve been brought up in a household where faith was important, but his upbringing was strict. Sometime in his life he may have rebelled against this upbringing, done something that may have upset or embarrassed his parents.”

Gideon added, “The unsub is cold, calculating, manipulative, and exacting. He may have manipulated Tommy Bridgeman into helping him commit the original murders and take the full brunt for it.”

Cruz spoke up. “So, what you’re saying is, we could be dealing with a guy who could be the devil himself.”

Gideon looked at Cruz. “He very well may be the devil,” Gideon said. “As I said, our unsub is probably the last person you’d expect to commit these crimes.”

**********************************

After Gideon delivered the profile, the agents went back to the conference room, as Reid dialed up Garcia back in Quantico on the speaker phone.

“Hello, there my lovelies,” she said.

“Garcia, can you dig up the medical records of Donna Martin and Tommy Bridgeman?” Reid asked.

“Ask and ye shall receive.” They could hear her typing away on her multi-set up keyboard. “And here it is…oh.”

“What is it Garcia?” Gideon asked.

Garcia told them what the medical records said.

As soon as she finished, Reid said, “Martin lied to us.”

“How did they manage to keep that away from the cops?” Morgan asked.

Gideon replied, “Let’s ask him in the morning.”

***********************************

It was close to five o’clock in the evening as Silas Manning placed a legal file in his briefcase when someone walked into his office.

“Hi there,” he said to the man. “I’m about to take off for home. My wife will be back around six from the Tri-Cities and I promised her a nice quiet evening at home tonight.”

Manning closed his briefcase and walked around to the front of his desk.

“You know, the FBI came by around the church today,” Manning said. “They talked to Jim and his daughter. I don’t think they believe the whole demon possession thing. They’re thinking Tommy had some help back then. I don’t know the whole of the conversation but they’re convinced someone else was involved.”

He turned his back on his visitor just for a second. “I think the feds have something,” he said, “but they don’t want to share. It wouldn’t surprise me if they found out about Donna being – “ He turned around again to face the person.

The last thing Manning saw was the knife coming right at him, held by a right hand with only four fingers.


	7. Chapter 7

Hotchner and Reid went back over the victimology. The four sets of victims – the Kimbles and Northrams in the present, the Bridgemans and the Hallstroms in the past – must have intersected somewhere other than Yakima Christian Church or with someone. The agents were back inside the conference room.

“Northram was an accountant, his wife a school teacher,” Reid stated. “Kimble was a college teacher, his wife a counselor. Bridgeman was an accountant; his wife ran a gift shop and was a member of the chamber of commerce. Hallstrom was a truck driver, his wife worked in a grocery store.”

“So where did they all intersect instead of church?” Hotchner asked.

“Northram and Bridgeman were accountants,” Reid pointed out. “Linked by somebody’s taxes?”

“They helped someone cheat on their taxes?” Morgan asked. “Motive sounds kind of flimsy.”

“I know what you said earlier about tax cheats,” Prentiss said. “It’s weak, but maybe the unsub doesn’t like people who cheated on their taxes.”

“So where does that leave the other two?” J.J. asked. “Maybe one of the victims was killed just to throw us off from the unsub’s real targets?”

The others pondered that possibility. “If that’s the case, it would be easier but only if we knew which of the victims didn’t fit the victimology,” Hotchner said. “We’ll have to assume they were all targeted by the unsub.”

“Maybe Tommy Bridgeman knew the other victims,” suggested Prentiss. “They all went to the same church. He probably knew them through his parents.”

“Doubtful,” Reid said. “According to Garcia’s research, the Kimbles just moved to Yakima six months before they were killed. He couldn’t have known them at all.”

The agents were all discussing it except Gideon. He was sitting back in his chair, staring at the evidence board with all the crime scene photos. 

_The victims all went to the same church….all killed the same way….demonic possession…. manipulation….Donna and Tommy, both of whom had –_

There was a knock on the conference room door. Captain Scoggins stuck his head inside.

“There’s been another murder,” he said.

Gideon looked over from his chair to Scoggins.

“Another couple?” he asked.

“No,” Scoggins replied. “Bridgeman’s attorney.”

******************************* 

It was just after six o’clock when the agents arrived at Silas Manning’s private law office, which was actually a few blocks away from the police station. Manning’s body had been covered by a sheet but blood was seeping through in spots. A lot of spots.

“Multiple stab wounds?” Hotchner asked.

“At least a dozen and still counting,” the medical examiner replied. “I’ll know more after the autopsy but it’s kind of obvious.”

Morgan had knelt down next to the body and peaked under the sheet. “Manning was killed standing up,” he said. “He must have been facing the unsub when he got stabbed. He was taken by surprise.”

The other agents looked around the outer office. Captain Socggins and Detective Cruz were going over details of the scene with the first officers at the scene. Bridgeman’s body had been found inside his office in front of his desk. Hotchner and Morgan came to the outer office.

“No sign of forced entry,” Reid said. “Bridgeman knew his attacker and wasn’t threatened by his or her presence.”

“I don’t see ‘Ramiel’ written anywhere,” Prentiss remarked. “Maybe he didn’t have time.”

“He definitely had enough blood to write it,” Morgan said, as he and Hotchner came out of Bridgeman’s main office. “Maybe he didn’t feel the need to.”

“Who called it in?” Gideon asked.

“His wife, Helen,” Captain Scoggins said. “She came by to see if he was still here. She got a bad shock when she found him. Medics had to sedate her.”

“She may have passed by the unsub on the way up to his office,” Hotchner said. 

“She said she didn’t see anybody on the way upstairs or outside,” Scoggins returned.

Gideon looked around the office. Reid said to him, “Does this change the victimology? He was the counsel for the church, as well as Bridgeman.”

“I wonder who else he represented?” Gideon asked.

“Let’s find out,” Morgan said. He took out his cell phone and dialed up Garcia.

“Speak and make it fast,” the computer tech analyst back in Quantico said. “It’s past nine o’clock here, and I’m about to check out and head home.”

“Silas Manning is a lawyer here in Yakima,” Morgan said. “We need his client list.”

“No problem!” Garcia’s magic fingers did their thing and produced a list of Manning’s clients on her screen. “Okay, aside from Yakima Christian Church, most of his clients were individuals and their families. He had a couple of business clients. Central Washington Agro-Corps, Valley Consolidated, Valley Realtors Group – “

“Wait, you said Valley Consolidated?” 

“That’s right.”

“What about the individual clients?” Hotchner asked. “Any of the victims past or present?”

“No, nope, nada,” Garcia replied, “but the list is on your way.”

“Thanks, baby mama,” Morgan said. “Get some rest.”  
'  
“Valley Consolidated is where Bridgeman worked,” Hotchner said. “We’ll go there in the morning.”

Gideon added, “And we’ll go back to Yakima Christian Church in the morning. I want to know why he held back about his daughter.”

***********************************

The following morning, Wednesday, Hotchner and Morgan headed out to Valley Consolidated. Their complex was actually on the city limits on the south end of Yakima, close to Interstate 82.

There were various farming vehicles surrounding the complex – tractors, trailers, backhoes, reapers – since they delivered these vehicles to farms between Ellensburg and the Tri-Cities and into the Columbia Basin. They also delivered industrial sized barrels of grain and seed as well, all stored inside a reconstructed hangar.

Once again, the skies above were dark and gloomy, and rain was forecast again to fall up and down the Yakima Valley, as well as the rest of eastern Washington. It was as if this part of the state was getting its allotment of rain all at once. 

The two agents were directed to the main office, on the second floor of the main building. 

They stopped at the front desk, identifying themselves to the secretary. “We’re looking for the man in charge,” Hotchner said to the secretary, a woman in her fifties with her brunette hair fading.

“That would be Walter Stockman,” the secretary said. “I’ll ring him.” She dialed the phone to her boss’ main line and informed him of the agents’ presence. “You can go inside,” she directed.

Hotchner and Morgan entered the office. Walter Stockman got up from his chair behind his desk and greeted the agents. He stood just under six feet tall with dark brown hair. “Welcome,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

Hotchner got right to the point. “We’re investigating some recent murders with the Yakima police. Last night, the lawyer that represents your company, Silas Manning, was killed.”

Stockman’s face suddenly registered shock. “Oh my God,” he said. “How did it happen?”

“He was murdered,” Morgan said. “How long did Manning represent your company?”

Stockman quickly tried to compose himself as best he could and sat back down. “A long time. Eleven, twelve years. My dad brought him on board. Him and a few others make up our house counsel.”

“I understand he represented Tommy Bridgeman at his murder trial,” Hotchner said. 

“He did,” Stockman said. “I actually asked him to represent Bridgeman. What does that have to do with this?”

“We have reason to believe whoever murdered Manning last night may have been involved with Tommy Bridgeman seven years ago when he committed those murders.”

“Really?” Stockman said. Mentally, both agents noted he sounded surprised. Whether he actually was, remained to be seen.

“We know Tommy Bridgeman worked for you before his arrest,” Morgan said.

“Yes, he did,” Stockman said back. “A part time, after school and weekends kind of thing. Just small stuff really. Bags of feed and grain to the farms in the area, nothing past Sunnyside or Ellensburg in either direction.”

“He had his own car or truck?” 

“He rode with one of our drivers. He was still in school. Didn’t want to risk the liability.”

“How did you come to hire him?” Hotchner asked.

“He was recommended by an employee,” Stockman replied. “Don Hallstrom. His brother has a small farm outside of Moxee. I think their two families knew each other. In fact, Don and Tommy rode together.” Hotchner made a mental note of that. 

“Did you know Tommy’s friend, Donna Martin?” Morgan asked.

“I believe so,” Stockman replied. “Weren’t they dating?”

“They were.”

“I read she was hospitalized.”

“That’s true.”

“Well, considering she had some kind of condition,” Stockman said, “it doesn’t surprise me.”

“She believed Tommy was innocent,” Hotchner said.

“She’s welcome to her own opinion,” Stockman said. “Sorry if that sounded cold, but Tommy Bridgeman was convicted. She should accept that.”

“She’ll accept the truth,” Hotchner said. “A couple of more questions. Did you know Leland and Gillian Northram?”

“I read about them in the newspaper,” Stockman said. “But I don’t know them.”

“What about John and Amber Kimble?”

“No, sir.”

“Okay. Thank you for your time.” The agents shook hands with Stockman, first Morgan, then Hotchner. As he shook hands with Stockman, Hotchner noticed Stockman’s right hand.

“What happened to your right hand?” he asked

“This?” Stockman returned, holding his hand up. “Accident a long time ago.” His right hand had only four fingers. “Lost the pinky trying to fix a combine engine when I was a teenager. A couple of people here are missing a digit or two.”

“Really?” Morgan asked.

“When you’re working around tractors, machine plows, and combines,” Stockman said, “someone’s bound to lose something.”

“Makes sense,” Hotchner said. “Any one of them named Ramiel?”

Stockman thought about it, then finally said, “No.”

“Thanks again.”

Hotchner and Morgan left the office complex and walked back to their SUV as a light rain fell. As they did, Morgan glanced back. Stockman was looking out the window at them.

“He had four fingers on his right hand,” Hotchner said.

“Could he be our so-called demon?” Morgan asked.

“Could be,” Hotchner said. “But if there’s more fingerless guys working here, we need to check them out as well. Call Garcia once we leave the parking lot.”

Hotchner and Morgan got into the SUV and headed back to Yakima Police Headquarters.

****************************

It was raining as Gideon and Reid parked their SUV in the lot for the Yakima Christian Church. Reid popped open his umbrella, as Gideon walked at a brisk pace to the church. Reid had to catch up to him as Gideon ignored the falling rain.

Once inside, he kept walking to Martin’s office.

“Agent Gideon,” Martin said as he got up from his desk. “I heard that Silas Manning was killed last night. Is that why you're here?” 

“We need to ask you about something else,” Gideon said, as Reid came in behind him. “Why did you lie to us?”

Martin was definitely taken aback. “Lie about what?”

Reid asked, “Why didn’t you tell us that Donna was suffering from schizophrenia?”


	8. Chapter 8

Jim Martin looked as if someone had dropped one of the stone tablets that Moses had brought down on his foot and hit him in the head with the other. He had broken at least one commandment in lying by omission to the FBI.

“What are you talking about?” Martin demanded, albeit unconvincingly.

“Donna is schizophrenic,” Gideon said. “We know.”

“How did you manage to keep that from the police and everyone else for all those years?” Reid asked.

Martin looked like he was about make a counter accusation but stopped. He sank in his seat, defeated.

“What do you want to know?”

“How long have you known?” Gideon asked.

“I found out just after she had seen Tommy Bridgeman come out of his parents’ house,” Martin replied. “She told Manning what she had seen, and she was convinced it couldn’t have been anything else. I took her to a couple of doctors and they had the same diagnosis. That’s why Manning didn’t put her on the stand at Tommy’s trial.”

“Schizophrenia with complex visual hallucinations.” Reid said. 

Martin looked at Reid. “Something like that. When she originally diagnosed, I asked the doctors not to report it right away. She’s taking medication for it.”

“What is it?” Reid asked. “Risperdal? Chlorpromazine?”

“That one, chlorpromazine,” Martin said. “The case was mild, and she’s still functional. The prescription is not large. But if she goes too long without it, she’ll start seeing things.”

“So why the five years in Western State?” Gideon asked.

“She kept insisting she was seeing demons. Not just in Tommy but in some other people as well. She had to stay there until we could get the right medication and convince her that not everyone who looks at her wrong is possessed by a demon.”

“Tommy was possessed,” Reid said. “Just by a different demon.”

“What do you mean?”

“Donna didn’t see a demon,” Gideon replied. “Tommy was an accomplice in the murders of his parents and the Hallstroms. She saw our unsub.”

“Her schizophrenia must have begun to manifest itself when she saw Tommy get ‘possessed’ that night,” Reid said. “When someone suffers visual hallucinations, their cortex doesn’t correctly process what they had just seen. Plus, the fact that it was dark and the only light was from the lamppost must have played tricks on her eyes, so it made her think that a spirit or demon got inside Tommy.”

Martin nodded. “That sounds about right,” he said.

“She described the demon to us,” Gideon said. “Do you know anyone who only has four fingers on their right hand?”

“I don’t,” Martin said.

“By the way,” Reid said, “did you know that Tommy Bridgeman was bipolar?”

“He was?” Martin was genuinely surprised.

“The doctors found out after he went to prison,” Gideon said. “Doctors missed it before the trial, but the prison doctor found out when he got there. The prison doctor said he was in the early stages of the condition. It may explain why he was so quiet until he met Donna and went quiet again after his so-called possession.”

Martin just shook his head. As if having a daughter who was seeing things wasn’t bad enough.

“I take it she’s aware of her condition,” said Reid, “judging that I saw her take her medication on her own.”

“She is,” Martin said. “Donna is harmless now. She hasn’t been seeing any demons.”

“For now,” Gideon added. He then asked, “Is Donna here?”

Martin nodded. “She’s at the altar.” The agents followed him out of the office and to the main chapel.

“You probably think I’m nuts myself,” Martin said to the agents. “Keeping my daughter’s mental condition pretty much a secret from the congregation, even though they already think she’s nuts. Not exactly something a pastor would do.”

“You were being a father, protecting his daughter,” Gideon said. “That’s what parents do.”

Donna was kneeling, her hands clasped together, in prayer in front of the altar inside the chapel. A large cross was on the wall behind the podium up on the stage.

“Amen,” she said.

“Hello, Donna,” Gideon said. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing fine.”

“What did you just pray about?”

“I prayed for Jesus to heal our world, and for Him to bring the lost to the church,” she replied. She sat up on one of the stage steps.

Reid quoted, “James five-sixteen says ‘The fervent prayer of a righteous man is effective.’ Or in your case, a righteous woman.”

“Was Tommy Bridgeman lost when you met him?” Gideon asked.

“He needed a friend,” Donna replied. “We became good friends at school.”

“Did you have other friends at school?”

“I did.”

“What did they think of Tommy?”

“Not much. Even when he was with me. Of course, when they found out what he did, they said it figured. It’s always the quiet ones.”

“Did you know he was sick?” Reid asked.

Donna looked at Reid. “Sick?”

“He was bipolar. Doctors didn’t diagnose him until after he went to prison.”

Donna looked confused.

“It wasn’t a demon,” Reid said. “He was sick.”

“No!” Donna emphatically said. “It was that demon. It had to be.”

“No,” Gideon returned. “It wasn’t a demon. It was a man who took advantage of his illness.”

Donna looked at Gideon. She was having trouble processing this revelation of the truth of what she saw that night and of the past seven years.

“You saw a man, not a demon,” Gideon said. “But, the person you saw with Tommy was evil.”

That seemed to get through to Donna. Good, evil. Black, white. All in a gray world.

***********************************

“I checked the employee list of Valley Consolidated,” Garcia said from Quantico on Morgan’s cell phone. “A couple of them do have missing fingers. I crossed checked them with their medical records. One, Eddie Kingwood, is missing his index finger, courtesy of a wayward meat cleaver at home. The second, Juan Olivera, is missing two fingers after getting it stuck in a grinder.”

“Did Walter Stockman lose his pinky finger the way he said?” Morgan asked, as him and Hotchner joined J.J. and Prentiss in the conference room.

“Yes he did. When he was fifteen, he was trying to fix an engine on a combine, and it got whacked off. How, I don’t know, because I stay away from farm machinery per my doctor’s orders.”

“Do you have any background on Stockman?” Hotchner asked.

Garcia replied, “Graduated from Washington State University, has a degree in business, his dad ran Valley Consolidated until his death ten years ago. Junior has been running it ever since. Parents went to church a lot. I’m still looking for some red flags.”

“Keep us updated, baby girl,” Morgan said.

“I always do!” With that, Garcia hung up.

“Any news on your end?” Hotchner asked Prentiss.

“Me and detective Cruz went to see the Kimble’s son over in Naches,” she replied. “Kimble had no idea who would want to kill his parents.” 

“The Kimbles went to church at Yakima Christian Church,” Morgan said. “Did he know the Northrams?”

“Nope. And I asked if he knew the Hallstroms or the Bridgemans. He knew them enough just to say ‘hi’ but that’s all.”

“Hallstrom was a truck driver,” Hotchner recalled. “Did he work for Valley Consolidated?”

Morgan dialed up Garcia again. “Sorry baby girl,” he said into his phone. “Leonard Hallstrom, did he work for Valley Consolidated as a truck driver?”

“Let me check,” she said. There was a burst of furious typing. “Hallstrom worked for Valley Consolidated. Past tense. Apparently, he got a new trucking job and left Valley Consolidated. He had some issues with upper management.”

“Upper management being Walter Stockman?” Morgan asked.

Garcia replied, “According to records, Hallstrom tried to cash a paycheck, and the bank said there were no funds in the account. Hallstrom had some words with Stockman, but things got straightened out. There was some kind of bookkeeping glitch on the company’s software. After that, Hallstrom left but not before he said there was something going on with the company’s finances.” There was a pause. “Maybe that was the red flag I was looking for.”

“Stockman had money trouble in his own company?” Morgan wondered aloud. Maybe this was about tax cheats after all. “Check his financials, Garcia.”

“Already doing so.” 

“If he’s our unsub,” Morgan said, “was this all about money?”, as Gideon and Reid came into the room.

“Maybe so,” Garcia said from Quantico. “Valley Consolidated got audited seven years ago by the IRS but passed with flying colors. If this was about money, he cleaned up the books before someone got wise.”

“Maybe someone did,” Morgan said. “No other red flags?”

“Still searching – wait, here’s one,” Garcia said. “Something from his college days. Pullman police report said him and some of frat brothers played a practical joke on a freshman that got out hand.”

“How bad?”

“They were pretending to have a black mass and sacrifice someone with lots of booze. No one died, but it embarrassed the Stockman family. They had just donated twenty thousand to an evangelical church. The pastor gave the money back.”

“Sounds embarrassing,” Prentiss said. “Wait, Gideon said the unsub would’ve rebelled against his family’s faith.”

“According to the report, him and his fellow frat brothers had names of demons on shirts and….uh, Derek, what was the name of the demon that your witness supposedly saw?”

“Ramiel,” Morgan replied. “Why?”

“Each of the frat boys were wearing t-shirts with names of demons on them,” Garcia said. “There’s a photo in the police file. Stockman’s shirt said – “

“Ramiel.”

“Bingo.”

“Thanks Garcia,” Hotchner said.

“So Stockman is our unsub?” Prentiss inquired. “So, this was all about money?”

“On the surface, maybe,” Gideon said. “His parents sound like they were deeply religious and this incident may have been a sign of rebellion against them and their faith.”

“But he kept quiet until seven years ago, then just recently,” Morgan said. “What set him off both times?”

J.J. suddenly said, “Wait, seven years ago? That’s when the first murders occurred.”

“If that’s the case,” Morgan said, “what did Stockman have to do with the murders?"

Hotchner said, “Let’s ask him.”


	9. Chapter 9

Hotchner informed Captain Scoggins and Detective Cruz of their plan to bring Walter Stockman in for questioning. To be on the safe side, Scoggins called a judge for a warrant to go over the financial records of Valley Consolidated.

As they waited for the warrant, the agents went over the case with Scoggins in the conference room. Garcia called back.

“I looked up the audit on Valley Consolidated by the IRS,” she said to Morgan.

“You hacked the IRS?” Morgan returned.

“I’ve done it before but not this time. The audit was a matter of public record anyway. Valley Consolidated had some funds missing seven years ago, but it wasn’t a glitch in their bookkeeping software. Some funds that was supposed to go into their pockets didn’t get there.”

“It went to Stockman’s pockets,” Hotchner guessed.

“Most likely,” Garcia replied. “How much, I’m still looking for.”

“Hallstrom must have found out that Stockman was skimming from his own company,” Scoggins said. “If that’s the case, then Stockman must have killed Hallstrom and his wife to keep it from coming out. But how does the Bridgemans figure into this?”

“I can answer that,” Garcia said. “According to the audit, the IRS used some outside help. They got some accountants to go over the books independently. One of them was Bridgeman.”

“Bridgeman must have found out the discrepancies, and Stockman must have found out who was going over the books,” said Morgan. “He went over to the Bridgemans and killed them.”

“The night outside Mel’s Diner,” Hotchner said. “Tommy Bridgeman must have said something to Stockman about his parents going over the books.”

“If that’s the case,” Prentiss said, “then Tommy was forced to help Bridgeman kill his own parents, then he framed Tommy.”

Gideon glanced over at Scoggins when Prentiss said that. The thought that Scoggins may have sent a somewhat innocent man to prison and his death didn’t make him feel comfortable.

“Stockman manipulated him,” Gideon corrected. “Stockman convinced Bridgeman to take the fall for his parents’ murder or hoped that the police figured that he lost it for some reason. He must have suspected something was wrong with Tommy when he hired him but kept him around.”

Reid said, “When Hallstrom accused him of the financial wrongdoing, he was worried that Hallstrom may have said something to Tommy, since he rode with him. And when he found out Tommy’s father was going over the books independently, Stockman realized he had the perfect fall guy.”

“So where does that leave the new victims?” asked J.J. “What were the Kimbles and the Northrams to Stockman?”

“Seven years is a long time to wait to kill someone,” Prentiss said.

“Northram was an accountant as well,” Hotchner said. “But Kimble was a college professor. What would be his connection?” 

“Garcia,” Morgan said into his phone.

“Already on it,” she said back in Quantico. The sound of furious typing ensued. “Northram was an accountant whose firm did some work for Valley Consolidated, but they weren’t a full on customer. According to my cyber digging, Northram personally handled Valley’s numbers for last year’s taxes, as well as Stockman’s own taxes, and was in the process of doing it this year when him and his wife were killed.”

“Sounds like Northram found some inconsistencies in Stockman’s money management as well,” Gideon said. 

“But what about Kimble?” asked J.J. “Stockman wouldn’t have killed them just for the hell of it.”

Garcia said from Quantico, “I’ll keep searching for a connection,” then she hung up.

“So where did Stockman put the money he was skimming?” asked Scoggins.

The conference room door opened up and a uniformed office came in. “The warrant is here,” he said to the agents.

Hotchner said, “Let’s go.”

***************************************

The SUV’s and police cruisers pulled into Valley Consolidated’s parking lot with sirens blaring. Employees came out of the main building, as the agents and police officers swarmed out and into Valley Consolidated’s main office.

“We have a warrant for the financial records of Valley Consolidated,” Scoggins announced. He looked around the main office, then walked up to office secretary. “Where is Walter Stockman?” he demanded.

“You just missed him,” the secretary replied. “He left ten minutes ago.”

“Where?” Hotchner demanded.

“He just said he’ll be back in an hour or so. He didn’t say where he was going.”

“What’s his cell phone number?” The secretary reluctantly gave it to them.

Morgan got on his cell phone. “Hey baby girl!”

“Garcia’s House of Internet Information, at your service!’ Garcia said over the phone from Quantico. “I found a – “

“We need a cell phone number pinged,” Morgan interrupted. “Our unsub is on the loose.”

Garcia said, “Give me the number, quick!” Morgan relayed the number, as Garcia’s fingers did their magic on the keyboard. Finally, she said, “He’s heading just past the center of town.”

“Thanks, Garcia.”

“Wait, there’s more! As I was saying before I was interrupted, I found a connection between Stockman and the Kimbles. It was his wife.”

“The wife?” Morgan was surprised, as Gideon, Hotchner and Scoggins came over to him. Uniformed officers were putting files from the office into boxes.

Garcia said, “Mrs. Kimble was a counselor at this mental health facility in town, and apparently, some of Valley Consolidated employees were seeing them about work conditions. Kimble and Stockman apparently talked to each other. Apparently, so did Donna Martin.” 

“Donna Martin?”

“Donna saw Mrs. Kimble as a patient after she was released from the mental hospital in Steilacoom. In fact, as recent at last week, just a couple of days before the Kimbles were murdered.”

“Stockman’s tying up loose ends,” Hotchner said. 

“Donna must have said something in confidence to Mrs. Kimble,” Reid surmised, “and Stockman found out.”

“We’ll head to the church right now,” Gideon said. 

Within seconds, Gideon, Morgan, and Reid headed for Yakima Christian Church in the SUV.

****************************************

“Hello,” Jim Martin said to the man who just walked into the Yakima Christian Church. “Can I help with you anything?”

Walter Stockman shook the rain off his head a little bit. “No thank you. I’m good.” Stockman’s cell phone rang. “Excuse me.”

He stepped aside close to one of the walls of the church and answered his cell. “Hello?”

It was one of his employees at Valley Consolidated. “Hey, boss, the cops just showed up. I don’t know why they’re here but they’re looking for you. Something about the bookkeeping.”

“Is that so?” Stockman said. “Look, I’ll be back there in an hour. I just have some things to take care of, all right.” He turned off his cell phone and pocketed it.

He looked over at Martin. “Main chapel is this way?” 

“Yes, it is,” Martin replied. 

“Thanks.” Martin went back into his office, as Stockman went into the main chapel.

Stockman quietly made his way down the center aisle between the rows of pews. Near the front, he could see a young woman sitting down, her head bowed down in prayer.  
He moved towards her, as he reached into his coat pocket.

Donna Martin lifted her head and said, “Amen” to finish her prayer.

“Hello there,” Stockman said to her.

Donna stood up and turned around. She started to say, “Hi”, then froze.

“Donna?”

She looked at him, as fear overtook her face, realizing who he was.

“You,” she said, her voice trembling with fear.

“Do you know me?” Stockman asked.

She looked at him, his eyes widening in horror.

“It’s you. You made him kill all those people.” She then said, “You’re that demon…”

“I am,” Stockman said. He pulled a large butcher’s knife out of his coat pocket. “I am Ramiel…”


	10. Chapter 10

The SUV and an unmarked police car pulled up in front of the Yakima Christian Church, as the rain began to come down heavily from the sky. Gideon, Morgan, and Reid, came out of the SUV, wearing the Kevlar vests. Detective Cruz came out of the unmarked car, also in a Kevlar vest.

“That must be Stockman’s car,” Morgan said, pointing at the brown Cadillac. “He’s here.”

The agents and Cruz ran into the foyer of the church, just as Martin came out of his office.

“What’s going on here?” he demanded.

“Where’s your daughter?” Gideon said back. 

“She’s in the main chapel,” Martin replied. “Just what – “ His sentence was interrupted by a scream.

The agents pulled out their service weapons and charged into the chapel. Gideon went down the middle aisle, while Morgan went to the right and Reid to the left. Cruz went alongside Gideon in the aisle, as he called for backup on his two way radio.

Walter Stockman turned to see who had come into the chapel, the butcher’s knife in his right hand. He had grabbed Donna Martin with his left hand, a look of horror on her face.

“Let her go!” Gideon ordered, raising his service weapon Glock at Stockman. Cruz, Morgan, and Reid aimed their weapons as well at Stockman from where they were.

“Back off or I’ll kill her right here!” Stockman returned, pulling Donna close to him and putting the knife to her throat.

“You do that, you’ll have no leverage,” Gideon said. He thought of the same situation his first case back when he had Tim Vogel and a hostage cornered at the boatyard in Seattle. “Do the right thing and let her go!”

“The hell I will!” Stockman said, as Donna began to cry and she struggled to break free.

“What’s the matter? Afraid you’ll go to heaven? You’re afraid you won’t meet Ramiel and his friends in hell?”

“Donna!” Jim Martin came into the aisle near Gideon.

“Daddy!” Donna cried out, still struggling to break free.

Gideon could see he had no clean shot at Stockman, and figured that neither Reid or Morgan had one either.

“We know all about the money you skimmed,” Gideon said to Stockman, looking for something to throw him off. 

“What about it!?” Stockman said back.

“You want it, you can keep it. Just let Donna go.”

“NO!” Stockman snapped back. “You think I’m stupid?”

“No, I think you’re a money grubbing loser! What’s the matter? Parents wouldn’t let you have fun like the other kids growing up? They wanted you to be a good little boy? They dragged you to church every chance they got?”

“Shut up!” 

“What happened? You broke the commandments every chance you got? Sinned for the hell of it? Tell me, did it make you feel all good inside?”

From where the agents were standing, there was still no clear shot at Stockman. Behind him, Gideon could hear Martin mumbling a prayer for a miracle.

“She saw you that night, didn’t she?” Morgan said from his position, angling for a clear shot.

Stockman quickly glanced over to Morgan, then back on Gideon. 

“She saw you talking to Tommy in the parking lot,” Gideon said. “What’d you tell him? That his parents found out you were skimming from your own company.”

“Tommy was screwed up,” Stockman said back. “He was easy to convince. I needed his help with his parents. It was so damn easy to kill them.”

“And he took the fall for you?”

“Actually, he helped me with his father.”

There was still no clear shot.

Suddenly, Donna started, “Heavenly father – “

“Shut up!” Stockman snapped.

“What’s the matter Stockman?” Gideon said. “Remind you too much of growing up? You don’t like being here, don’t you?”

Stockman angrily glared at Gideon. One good push could send Stockman over the edge. The trick was to make sure he didn’t take Donna with him.

“Did your parents do something else to you?” Gideon said. “Make you recite the commandments, especially the ones you broke? Which one? Thou shalt not steal? Take the Lord’s name in vain? Thou shalt not covet? Was it that last one? Tell me! Better still, tell God. Was she that hot?”

Stockman screamed in anger. He shoved Donna to the ground and raised the knife in both hands to strike.

Gideon, Morgan, and Reid, fired simultaneously. Stockman’s whole body snapped back as the knife fell out of his hands, then he fell back on to the floor.

Martin quickly ran over to his daughter, who was crying her eyes out. “It’s over, princess,” he said to her.

The agents and Cruz moved towards Stockman’s body. The knife was not in reaching distance of Stockman’s hands. Still, Gideon kicked it further away.

They all stood over Stockman, his eyes barely open. At first, he looked still. Then he moved his right arm.

“I’ll call an ambulance,” Cruz said.

Then Stockman began to mumble. The agents kept quiet so they could hear him.

“Our father…who art in heaven….hallowed be….hallowed be thy name….” He was asking for forgiveness after a lifetime of sin. “Thy kingdom….done…on earth.” His voice began to trail off. “….as it is in….” Then he stopped, as his head tilted to one side, and his eyes closed.

The agents holstered their weapons, and Reid and Morgan walked out of the chapel, followed by Martin and his daughter, as he tried to console her after this ordeal.

Gideon remained, standing over Stockman. The agent then looked up at the stage. Behind the podium, he saw the large cross on the wall.

“He’s all Yours,” Gideon said quietly. “Forgive him.”

**************************************

The police cruisers dotted the parking lot of the church, along with an ambulance and a coroner’s station wagon. Donna was being treated by paramedics as she sat inside the ambulance. 

Two coroners from the medical examiners’ office were loading Walter Stockman’s body into the wagon for transport to the morgue. Before he had been loaded onto the gurney, Jim Martin administered a last rites prayer for Stockman inside the church.

Morgan, Reid, and Gideon each separately explained to Hotchner what had gone down inside the church. Their accounts of necessary force satisfied Hotchner.

The rain had stopped earlier and there was a slow breaking of the clouds above.

After that, Captain Scoggins and Detective Cruz went up to Hotchner.

“Thanks for everything,” Scoggins said to him. 

“You’re welcome,” Hotchner said back.

Martin went over to his daughter when the paramedics were done with her. He hugged his daughter as Gideon came over to them.

“Thank you,” Martin said to Gideon.

“How is she?” Gideon asked.

“I’m fine,” Donna replied. “I’m just glad it’s over.”

Martin said to Gideon, “You’ve probably seen a lot like Stockman. They’re all evil.”

“To various degrees,” Gideon replied. “Some aren’t really evil. Some are just messed up and can’t help what they do.”

“Am I messed up?” Donna suddenly asked. Gideon looked at her inquisitively. “I mean, I saw what I thought was a demonic spirit, and it was a just a man.”

“You saw what you saw. Your mind just interpreted it differently. That doesn’t mean you’re messed up. You’re still a good person.”

“Good and evil, that’s what it boils down to, doesn’t it?” Martin asked.

Gideon replied, “The answer is not that simple, but yes.”

“With all the evil, the monsters in the world, how do you deal with it?”

“We focus on the people we save,” Gideon said. “Like your daughter.”

“Thanks again, agent Gideon.” Martin shook the agent’s hand. “I’ll pray for you.”

“Thank you,” he said. “But we’ll be ready for them. We always are.”

Soon, the agents got into their SUV’s and headed off, as some of the clouds parted and the sun began to shine through.

***************************************

 _“We have a God who loves us. We are in the palm of His hand. He doesn’t leave us and He doesn’t forsake us.”_ – Frank Peretti.


End file.
